


The Hardest Homecoming Ever-

by sans_souci2



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So that feel good scene in the chopper at the end of 2.10?  Well it was pretty much all adrenalin. </p><p>Steve's in bad shape. </p><p>Getting him home is hard as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Homecoming Ever-

Adrenalin, endorphins, and a certain person’s sheer willpower do a good job of fooling everyone.

At least for a while.

Steve’s smile is the first thing to hint at the truth.

It’s like someone’s slowly sucking the air out of him the way it turns hesitant, then forced, then flat out just disappears.

At about the same time his smile disappears and with no warning, which means he can’t brace for it, they hit a rough patch of air.

Okay that really starts to dim the rosy reunion _._

It takes Steve a while to get his breath back.

The rifle he’d been gripping lays where he’d dropped it. He needs both hands to brace himself while he keeps his eyes focused on the rusted floor between his legs.

The rest of them try to keep some chatter going while they watch him like a hawk and pretend like they’re not

The thing is they don’t have to worry.

He doesn’t look up again until they land. In fact he closes his eyes for a few minutes, twice. The second time he keeps them closed until the chopper touches down.

Seconds before that happens and with the chopper’s struts still a few inches off the ground, Danny and Chin jump out to take up positions on either side of its wide open door. When the machine settles and no one follows them, they lean in.

Steve’s still on the floor propped between Joe’s legs.

“You need a hand, brah?”

“No. I’m… o…kay.” He sounds short of breath. “I’m just gonna… slide over there.”

Sliding on his ass wasn’t the way McGarrett exited a chopper - not if he could possibly help it.

As soon as he presses both hands down on the floor and tries to do it, his embarrassing fallback plan gets vetoed and he bends over with a loud grunt. It’s all Danny can do not to jump back into the chopper. He wishes to hell they were at a hospital instead of at this sorry excuse for an airfield.

Even more he wishes Steve had never come to this damn country.

_Oh God, how he wishes that one._

Wait a minute - what are those two cowboys up to?

It’s like choreography the way Jacks and Wade move in on Steve. Suddenly, without saying a word, they bend down on either side of him. His eyes are closed so he doesn’t see them. Something sure must have his attention because he doesn’t seem to hear them either. Without a word, they lift his arms over their shoulders, careful to grip his forearms and not his wrists. Once they have a hold on him, they stand, gently bringing him up with them. Before he can protest-before he really knows what’s happening, they’ve got him to the open doorway and are handing him off to Danny and Chin.

“I’m… okay… I can walk.”

“Would you shut up and let us coddle you just this once?”

That earns a frown but it’s confused and quick to fade and after it’s gone, there’s no more fight.

Danny prays it’s not because there’s no more fight left.

_____~______

As soon as Steve’s in the truck, Jacks and Wade jump into the cab and the rest of them scramble in the back. Danny tries hard to convince Steve to lay down on the blankets Kono has laid out for him but he refuses, insisting on pushing them aside and sitting with his back against one of the bench seats and his legs stretched out in front of him.

A sudden roar and grinding of gears gets his and everyone else’s attention.

_What the hell?_

They can’t see him but based on what they hear, they guess it’s Frank.

_Give me a second, ladies, got to go get my land ride._

All of them remember Frank’s devilish wink when he’d said it and then run off. None of them would be surprised if it was a retrofitted tank or a dirt bike that he showed back up with-for sure it wasn’t going to be a plain Jane set of wheels.

From the sound of things, whatever it was didn’t have any kind of respectable exhaust system.

Their truck roars to life and suddenly lurches forward, gears grinding like crazy just to keep up with the circa 1950 jeep flying down the road in front of it. When the jeep veers off into a thicket of trees there’s no shortage of curse words from the front or the back of the truck as it hurtles off the paved roadway to follow it.

Not even many locals know the abandoned road Frank takes them on. Just about all its asphalt has disappeared and been replaced by packed dirt and gravel and plenty of spectacular potholes. When they hit the first pothole, Steve gasps like he’s been shocked.

None of them are sure what to do.

Except for Joe.

“I got you,” he yells over the roar of the motor as he slides behind Steve.

It’s damn impressive how fast the man moves. Just like he’d done in the chopper, he uses his legs to stabilize Steve’s torso while he clamps his hands down on his shoulders. It helps but the ride’s still way too rough for a body as beat up as Steve’s and in no time beads of sweat dot his forehead.

Danny doesn’t miss a single flinch or grimace and every one of them flat out kills him. He can barely stand seeing Steve in so much pain.

He doesn’t say a thing, though; he gets that they don’t have a choice-that they have to lay low and wait this thing out. Joe had hammered it into their heads on the flight over. _Once we have Steve and before we’re in the air, we’ll be the most vulnerable._

It's true.

This close to the border, Wo Fat has eyes and ears everywhere. No telling what kind of reward he’s put out for Steve’s head now that he’s had him in his sick hands and lost him. They need to disappear until the middle of the night and then make their way to the airport in Inchon, just outside of Seoul. There’s a decent highway they could take to get there but that’s where Wo Fat’s people will be looking for them which means they’ll have to take back roads for most of the 75 kilometer trip.

“Ahhh!” Steve breaks his silence with a scream when they hit what has to have been a massive pothole that has him crumpled over and hugging himself like he’s been shot.

Danny’s had enough.

He slides close up against him and puts his arms around him, to hell with Joe’s hands and legs getting in the way. “Hang in there, babe - it’s not gonna be too much longer.” His mouth is up against Steve’s ear when he says it-his hands are everywhere-wiping the sweat off his forehead, cradling his jaw, gently rubbing his leg.

He doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks.  
_______~_________

“Very impressive. You do this yourself?” Joe asks Frank, looking up as they hurry toward the ramshackle bungalow in front of them.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s get him inside."

Clearly Frank’s not interested in discussing his handiwork.

Danny eyes the canopy of netting and branches overhead the same way Joe does. Between what Frank has strung up in the trees to make the place invisible from the air and the thick foliage they just had to plow through to get to it, he knows they’re safe for a few hours at least. It’s not the kind of safe Steve needs, though, and as he angles him through the door and hears his pained grunt, the knot in his stomach tightens.

By the time Steve is stretched out on the ratty cot Frank has in the corner of his little hideout, Danny’s done all the biting his tongue can stand. “Is it your ribs or your gut-what’s hurting you the most?”

No answer. At least not from Steve.

“I’ve got this, Danny.”

“You’ve got this?” Danny’s face flushes bright red. “You’ve got this?”

Joe frowns, honestly confused.

Not that Danny even notices. “You’ve got this like I’ve fucking got Demi Moore’s cell phone number! He needs a damn doctor.”

“And we’ll get him one as soon as we can. Wade’s getting some first aid supplies from the truck right now. Both he and I have had some pretty damn good medical training. Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat and drink over there with the others and let us see what we can do for Steve?”

_Two GI Joes and a first aid kit? Oh that’s just great._

“Fine. Fine. Go ahead and slap a few Band-Aids on him but I swear to God we’re taking him to a hospital before we go to the airport.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. How about Wade and I get him cleaned up and checked out first?”

Danny wants to smack the guy, but he wants Steve to get at least get some kind of care even more. “Okay fine.” He reaches down and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “Hey babe - I’m going to let Joe play doctor but just so you know, you’re not off the hook. Someone with MD after his name is looking you over as soon as we get out of here.”

It seems like Steve’s about to say something. He lifts his head and stares at Danny but then he looks past him. Maybe it’s something he sees or hears, or maybe it’s just exhaustion catching up with him, whatever it is, for some reason he drops his head back and closes his eyes without saying a word.

It probably means nothing but it tightens the knot in Danny’s stomach just a little more.

________________~__________________

Frank's got enough bottled water and MREs stockpiled in the place to feed a platoon.

The food’s not flavorful or pretty but since none of them can remember when they last ate, they wolf it down.

Except for Danny.

He can hear every single one of Steve’s pained grunts; no way can he eat.

When he hears Wade say something about morphine he unclenches his fists.

_So a GI Joe first aid kit has a few things in it besides Band-Aids?_

_Thank you, Uncle Sam._

It takes about five minutes for the morphine to do its job. Joe and Wade use the time to get Steve’s clothes off of him. As he gently works his pants over his feet, Wade frowns and points something out to Joe. Danny cranes his neck for a better view. When Wade takes a step back, he gets it.

_Oh shit._

The bottoms of Steve’s feet are caked with dirt but the dirt’s got a sickening reddish tint to it. It’s hard to be sure but his toes look wet - like whatever’s under the dirt is still oozing blood.

“Better be sure you get those good and clean,” Joe says grimly.

A bitter taste fills Danny’s mouth. He swallows hard and stares at the floor between his legs but all he can see is the filthy, blood stained cement floor in that room. He remembers the chains dangling from the ceiling and his traitorous mind fills in the blanks, churning up an image of Steve hanging from them and his bloody toes scraping across the filthy floor.

He can almost hear him scream.

He wants to punch his fist through the wall and cry at the same time.  
______~________

At least Danny was wrong about one thing.

Once Steve’s out of it and they really get to work, he’s forced to seriously revise his opinion of Navy SEAL medicine.

White could pass as a damn doctor and Wade could hang a shingle right next to his and no one would bat an ey

The bulging canvas pack they’re working out of holds more supplies and medicine than most doctors’ offices. What’s even more impressive is the way Joe and Wade wield what they pull out of the thing. At first Danny’s wary when Joe grabs a stethoscope and listens to Steve’s chest. He realizes the guy knows what he’s doing though, when he frowns and tells Wade that Steve’s breath sounds are diminished on both sides and asks him to check an O2 sat. Danny doesn’t know what that means, but seconds later Wade is putting a little clip on Steve’s finger and watching numbers flash on the handheld device it’s wired to.

“Ninety-two,” he reads.

Both of them look relieved which means Danny does too. After a long sip of water he looks back over and sees Wade bite off the cap from a syringe before he hands it to Joe.

“Lidocaine?” Joe asks.

Wade nods as he spits the cap on the floor.

_Good. Numb the hell out of him._

After injecting the anesthetic, Joe starts working a curved suture needle in and out of a gash that starts in Steve’s lower lip and extends down his chin. Light glints off the forceps he uses to pull the needle through his skin.

Danny counts seven stitches.

After Joe ties off the last one, he uses steri-strips to close a gash on Steve’s cheek.

_Sorry babe, those might be some hard to hide scars._

While Joe works high, Wade works low, scrubbing Steve’s feet then slathering them with antibiotic ointment before bandaging them. Next he starts working on the burns on Steve’s chest and stomach, peeling away burnt flesh with a pair of tweezers before he pours alcohol over them. After he smears thick white cream on the burns, Joe helps him tape gauze bandages over the worst ones; the smaller ones they leave open to air. Danny thinks they must be finally finished when they say something to each other that he can’t hear and gently grab hold of the waistband of Steve’s underwear.

“God damn it.”

Danny’s stomach knots when he hears the way Wade says it, softly but with enough disgust in his voice to leave nothing to the imagination.

“Lets get a cold compress on him.”

Joe’s already digging one out of the kit as he says it.

“I just hope he can fucking pee,” Wade murmurs.

It’s all Danny can do not to jump up and run over.

“Sit tight, brah,” Chin warns, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “Let them do what they have to do.”  
____~____

 When Joe and Wade finally head off to join the others for some food and much needed rest, it’s remarkable how much ground they gained.

There’s an IV in Steve’s arm and he’s asleep in a clean pair of boxers courtesy of Frank. There’s a t-shirt and pair of sweats on the floor, also courtesy of Frank, that they’ll put on him when it’s time to go. They’ve flipped off the bright flashlight they’d rigged up to examine him so he’s in the shadows. Danny pulls a chair up next to the cot and props his feet up on it, careful not to touch him. He doesn’t plan to drift off but after a few minutes his chin settles against his chest and his eyes close. Despite the snores and hushed voices coming from across the room, he manages to stay asleep for a few hours until a strangled sound wakes him.

 _'Ahhaaa-I_ _don’t know!'_

Based on Steve’s desperate grimace, it’s not hard to guess what he’s reliving.

“Hey buddy, take it easy - you’re safe.”

Thanks to the morphine, Danny only has to say it a few times and gently brush a hand over Steve's forehead to get him to drift back to sleep.

Now that he’s awake though, Danny stays that way. He watches Steve twitch and shift and finally settle and wonders how the hell they’re going to manage when they get to the airport. The bandages on his feet are already spotted with blood - no way he’s going to be able to do much walking. It might take another dose of morphine but the only way he can think of pulling it off is in a wheel chair. Of course then there’s getting a beat up, half-conscious McGarrett through security and past the agents at the gate.

“Hey-”

Steve’s soft, bleary voice startles him.

“Hey yourself. Welcome back.”

“What’s… the plan?”

“The plan?” Danny can’t help shaking his head and smiling as he pulls his feet off the cot and sits up. Why is he not surprised? Only Steve, with his swollen stitched up face and who knows how many busted ribs would drift up after a mega dose of morphine and instantly be in mission-ready mode.

He wants to hug him and tell him to just chill instead of answer flippantly, the way he does to mask how fast his heart is beating, “The plan is we get some clothes on you and wake up those sleeping beauties over there. Then with fearless Frank behind the wheel, we head for Inchon and find a shiny 747 to whisk our tired asses home.”

Steve looks over to where the others are just starting to wake up and frowns.

Spooned together under a shared blanket, Kono and Lori look like teenagers at a sleepover And sprawled anywhere they could find floor space, the others look like they need at least another two hours of sleep before they’ll be ready for prime time.

Steve looks at Danny, worried.

“I know. I know. We’re kinda running on fumes and your pal, Mr. Wo Fat, may have some big baddies out there looking for us, or to be more specific, for you. Don’t worry. Frank’s got a route mapped out that no one in their right mind would expect us to take - trust me - it’s going to eventually get us to the airport, but you’re going to want another hit of the good stuff before we leave.”

Steve doesn’t say anything - he almost looks like he’s about to fall back asleep.

Danny knows better.

The guy is taking inventory-gauging just how much each breath hurts and how messed up his head feels. Danny can almost see him square his shoulders and tell himself he’s fine.

“So how do you feel?”

Steve is still calculating.

He notices the IV in his arm and follows the tubing up to the nearly empty bag of fluid nailed to the wall behind him. Apparently he decides it won’t keep him from doing what he needs to because he slowly rolls over on his side. Before Danny can say or do a damn thing, he’s clenching his teeth and grunting like a one-man tug of war team as he slides his legs over the side of the cot.

Still lying on his side but now with his feet on the floor he’s already broken out in a sweat.

“Whoa! Take it easy, Steve.”

It’s a waste of breath but the warning comes out before Danny can stop himself.

Steve doesn’t seem to even hear him. With one arm around his middle he pushes himself up so he’s sitting on the side of the cot.

It’s all Danny can do not to help him.

Watching from across the room, Joe looks like he’s fighting the same urge.

When Steve seems like he’s about to reach for the clothes on the floor, they both give up.

“Here, let me get those for you.”

Joe’s suddenly right next to Steve. “You okay to get dressed?”

“Yeah… I’m… good.”

“Oh, that’s rich," Danny huffs. "You’re good? Okay, Mr. I’m Good, stick your arms in here.”

Steve frowns at him and the t-shirt he’s holding. Reluctantly, because it hurts, he starts to lift his arms.

“Whoa, son, hold up. Let’s get rid of that IV first.” After grabbing some gauze and tape, Joe pulls the needle out of Steve’s arm and slaps a bandage on it.

“Okay, lets try this again,” Danny says.

Gritting his teeth this time, Steve starts to raise his arms.

As quick as he can, Danny slips the t-shirt up over his head. “There you go; now lets get these sweats on you.”

“I can do it-”

“Just hush and play nice.”

“Wait a second, Danny.”

Both Danny and Steve flash Joe a 'Now what?'.

“How about you pee first, Steve?”

That earns Joe a much more adamant, what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look.

Joe’s not fazed, “You’ve had nearly a liter of IV fluid.”

“I’ll go… when I get out…side.”

Joe drops down on one knee and lowers his voice so even Danny has to strain to hear. “I’m just concerned you might have a little trouble when you try. It looks like you took a few good hits,” he glances down at Steve’s crotch and lowers his voice a little more, “in a bad place.” Before Steve can respond, Joe reaches for something under the cot. “Here, how about you use this and see if everything is working okay?”

Based on Steve’s face you would have thought the jar Joe is holding is a live grenade.

But Joe’s not backing down. He’s seen buddies writhing in agony after a few well-placed kicks to the wrong place left them unable to relieve themselves. As much as he hates doing it, he pushes Steve, “Look son, you’re going to be in world of hurt if you can’t empty your bladder. How about I step away and let Danny help you make sure you can?”

When Steve doesn’t answer, Joe brings in the big guns, “If I’ve got to do something that I sure as hell hope I don’t have to, you’re going to want me to do it here and not in the back of a moving truck.”

That looks like it makes Steve sick to his stomach on top of being utterly disgusted but he takes the jar from Joe and waits for him to leave. Once he's sure he's gone, his hand shakes when he searches for the slit in his boxers.

“Here babe, give me that.” Expecting a protest but getting none, Danny takes the jar and kneels in front of Steve, handily blocking anyone’s view of what he’s about to do. Using the matter-of-fact, we-just-got-to-do-this tone of voice he uses on Grace in similarly uncomfortable situations, he tells him to relax and then gently slips his hand into Steve’s boxers.

When he pulls his hand out, it’s a toss up as to who looks worse.

Steve’s expression is a mix of pain and mortification, more of the later.

Danny’s is equal parts shock and rage. Biting back the urge to ask how many times the bastard kicked him, he positions Steve as gently as he can and keeps his voice almost steady, “Okay, you’re all set… just try to go.”

Elbows on his knees, head in his hands, Steve shivers.

Danny can’t see his face to tell if it’s pain or something else. After a few unbearable minutes he leans in and asks, “No luck?”

No surprise, Steve’s not about to give up. “Just… g…give me a minute.”

“Sure, babe. Take your time.”

It takes more than a minute. Steve’s skin dimples with gooseflesh when he finally starts to make a weak stream of pink-tinged urine. Neither of them says anything until he’s finished.

“You done?”

Steve nods. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and upper lip; he looks away while Danny tucks him in and stands up.

“Here, I’ll take that; you go ahead and get those sweats on him.”

Danny turns; he had no idea Joe was back. As he hands over the jar, he searches his face for a reaction.

“Not unexpected,” Joe says quietly. “His kidneys probably took some serious abuse. The good news is at least he could go.”

Danny wants his hands around Wo Fat’s neck so badly they tremble as he squats down in front of Steve and holds one leg of the sweat pants open for him. God only knows how he somehow keeps the rage out of his voice when he tells Steve to step into it.

By the time Danny has the sweats up around Steve’s knees, Joe’s back, “Here, Steve, I’ll help you stand up so Danny can pull those the rest of the way up.”

“I can do it by my-”

“Come on babe, save your breath and do what the man says.”

His jaw’s clenched but he does what Danny tells him

Even though he only stands for a few seconds, it obviously hurts.

“Okay, okay that’s it, you’re good. Sit down.” Danny can’t help him sit back down fast enough. Fuck. Hunched over on the side of the cot with both arms around his middle he looks anything but good. “I mean it Steve - you’re taking a hit of morphine before I’m letting you get on that truck.”

They both have to strain to catch Steve’s answer because his head’s down and his lips barely move. When they realize they just heard him grunt, “Fine,” they exchange an alarmed glance.

“Now you’re starting to make sense,” Danny lies.

Joe grabs a syringe and alcohol wipe without a word.

Steve doesn’t look up while he wipes his bicep or flinch when the needle goes in. His eyes are still closed when Joe tells him, “You should go ahead and lay down and let that kick in while we load up. We’ll put you on the truck last thing.”

“O…kay.”

Wordlessly, Danny lifts Steve’s feet and helps ease him down on his side.

He stays that way for a second then rolls onto his back with a barely stifled groan.

Not even waiting until Joe walks away, Danny sits down on the edge of the cot and brushes his hand over Steve’s forehead. Then, as if it’s just the two of them, he runs his fingers through Steve’s hair and massages his scalp. Seeing the lines across his forehead relax makes him feel so relieved his eyes well up. “Hang in there, babe.” As he says it, he continues working his fingers through Steve’s hair until he feels something sticky and Steve winces. He doesn’t have to look. Switching hands, he goes back to gently massaging his temples and running his fingers down his cheeks. “We’ll be home soon,” he lies as he stares at the congealed blood on his fingers. “That’s it, just relax.” He keeps up the soft murmuring and light massage until Steve’s face relaxes and stays that way.

Across the room, as the others get their things together, every single one of them steals at least one glance at Steve.

“God, I hope he’s going to be able to do this.”

It’s not that Kono’s saying it to anyone in particular; it’s more like a little prayer she whispers as she pulls on her Kevlar and stares across the room.

“He will be, trust me.”

“I hope you’re right, Joe.”

“C’mere-”

It should feel awkward when Joe wraps his arms around her. They’re just friends and new friends at that.

It doesn’t

As worried as she is, any comfort is welcome.  
________~_________

After a rushed and irreverent goodbye outside the terminal, Frank jumps back in the truck and pulls out in front of one very pissed taxi driver. The way he flips Joe off as he speeds away would make anyone watching think they were two military buddies wrapping up a reunion.

That impression might get a rewrite when they see Joe walk over and join Kono and Lori who are pretending to study a map near the entrance of the terminal. Whatever impressions are made that day, none will be of a large group of Americans since they’ve divided up into twos and threes and won’t be together again until they're aboard their plane.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Joe says softly as he stares at the map. Comm sets courtesy of Chin, relay his voice to the others. “Kono, you and Lori will go pick up the boarding passes. Wade, you’ll meet me at the currency desk. The rest of you start making your way to security-remember, minimal conversation, low profile."

Kono nods and pretends to point something out on the map, “Our gate is in Terminal A which is about a half mile from here-a connector shuttle runs continuously between it and this terminal from a station one level below us. As soon as Lori and I have the boarding passes we’ll go to the information desk where the shuttle buses unload.”

Joe picks up where she leaves off, “Approach them like we discussed, people. Walk up and ask a quick question. Let them slip you your passes and then move on.”

On a bench just inside the terminal, Danny listens to Joe and feels like throwing up.

Like we’re fucking going to be able to pull this off.

He’d give anything to have a different way to get Steve home but since he doesn’t he leans over and whispers, “Time to rise and shine, princess. It sounds like we got a little distance to cover.”

Steve’s head stays down and he makes no sign of hearing him, much less, of moving.

If Danny wasn’t as nervous as he was, he might have at least smiled. The dirty beige raincoat and wool cap Frank had dug up for Steve makes it look like someone his father’s age is slumped against him. The beat-up pair of boots they’d gently eased Steve’s feet into would normally have him flat out laughing-the things were at least two sizes too big.

“Chin, hurry up with that wheelchair.” Danny whispers just in case Steve is starting to come out of his morphine stupor. When Chin shows up a few minutes later Steve lifts his head and gives the wheel chair a confused frown.

But that’s it.

Just a frown.

He lets Danny help him into it without a word and as soon as his feet hit the footrests, drops his chin back down against his chest.

“I got it,” Chin tells Danny, taking hold of the chair’s handles. “You make sure he stays put.”

It’s a pretty tall order.

Twice, before they get to their terminal, Danny has to grab Steve to keep him from slumping too far forward. “It’s going to be a fucking miracle if we pull this off,” he mutters after the second save.

“Then you best believe in miracles, son.”

Joe voice crackling over his comm set tightens the knot in Danny’s stomach.  
______~_______

 “Our buddy here had a few too many and got himself in a little fight,” Danny offers as he hands their boarding passes to the gate attendant.

She’s not amused and eyes Steve suspiciously, “Are you sure he’s safe to travel?”

“Of course he is.”

She frowns and decides it’s not up to either of them, “I’m going to need a doctor’s note.”

“Ma’am, really, I’m... f…fine.” Unbelievably, Steve sits up straight, looks her in the eye and gets his swollen lips to move well enough to be close to intelligible. He even flashes a lopsided but endearing smile at her.

“Really, he is. He looks like this every time we come back from one of our little junkets, ma’am.” Danny flashes the woman what he hopes is an irresistible smile. “We just gotta get him home and throw a cold steak on that handsome puss of his and he’ll be good as new.”

She’s still not amused and lets Danny know it with a stare that could curdle milk. “Well, I need to be sure he’s safe to fly-”

“I am. I’m fine, ma’am. Really. I look a lot worse than I am, see?” Steve grabs the armrests and shocks everyone by pulling himself up out of the chair. He’s wobbly and Danny has to slide an arm around him, but his voice sounds, if anything, a little stronger. “If you let me board, I promise you I’ll just buckle my seat belt, fall asleep and be absolutely no trouble.”

“Okay,” she’s still frowning but she reluctantly takes the boarding passes from Danny. “I still don’t like the looks of this.”

“Neither do we, ma’am, believe me, neither do we.”  
______~_____

An hour into the flight they hit sudden turbulence. It’s short lived but rocks the cabin violently. Steve wakes up with a start.

“You okay?”

“I’m f…fine.”

Danny wonders if it’s his neck that’s making him grimace since he was sleeping with it crooked at a wicked angle. “You want a pillow or something for your head?”

“Yeah… okay.”

While Danny searches through the nearby overheads, Chin leans over. “Ride got a little rough there - you okay?”

“I don’t… kn…ow.”

There’s something about the way Steve says it that makes Chin undo his seatbelt and slide forward to get a better look. “What’s up, brah?”

“Don’t know... can’t …get my… breath.”

“Here’s a pillow for you, princess – hey, what’s wro-”

Chin bats the pillow away, “Go get Joe. Now!”  
______~______

Looking back at what happened, Joe will kick himself for not having Steve checked out at a hospital before they flew out of Seoul but at the time it honestly felt like the right thing to do. Frank had already had to find his way around two suspicious looking road blocks by the time they starting seeing signs for the airport. With the sun about to come up, they could only expect a lot more players to be joining the hunt for them.

“So what are our choices?” he’d asked as they apporached the airport.

When Kono went on-line and told him she could book all of them on a non-stop flight that left in fifty minutes, he’d looked down at Steve who was sleeping like a baby at the time and told her to do it.

Thank God something told him to stash a few things from the medical kit in his carry-on bag - just in case.

_____~______

“Bring me my bag, Wade!” Joe yells as he bolts out of his seat to follow Danny. His chest tightens when he sees Chin leaning over Steve. As soon as he reaches them and sees Steve’s face, he knows he screwed up.

Badly.

“What is it, Steve?”

“Can’t… bre…athe.”

Okay, that’s not what you want to hear from anybody.

Hearing it from a terrified looking Steve McGarrett scares the hell out of Joe, but he doesn’t let his face or voice show it, “Okay, take it easy, I can help you.”

“What’s going on gentlemen?”

Joe spins around to face the flight attendant.“This man is having trouble breathing-can we use the overhead oxygen supply?”

She frowns, “Yes but we have a portable canister too; it’s easier than dropping all the masks.”

“Get it, please. Now!”

The look on Joe’s face and the bluish tinge on Steve’s must have convinced her not to ask questions. Another flight attendant appears as soon as she hurries off, “What’s going on here?”

“This man is having trouble breathing - I need to move him so I can treat him-”

“You what?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Please, this man is in serious trouble; I don't have time-”

“Well I need to advise the captain before I let you do anything.” She frowns, “Are you a doctor? I don’t remember seeing any MDs on the flight manifest.”

“Here’s the oxygen, sir.”

“Thank you. And no, I’m not a doctor, but I’m trained to treat what I think is going on here if you’d just let me.”

“Look lady, you need to get out of his face now!” Danny’s a second away from making sure she does it.

“What seems to be the problem, Anne?”

“Oh, Pete. I’m glad you’re here. This man-”

“Sir, I’m Lt Commander Joe White. I’m a Navy SEAL - my men and I are returning from an operation in Korea. I’m afraid this man might have a collapsed lung-”

“He’s not even a doctor, Pete-”

“Be quiet!” The man locks eyes with Joe, “Go on.”

Joe guesses he's the co-pilot based on how young he looks. “I need to move this man to the area in front of the bulkhead where there’s extra floor space. You’ve got to clear that first row of passengers.”

“Consider it done. You want our medical kit?”

“Yes, for God’s sake!” Danny gives the man a push. “Go get it and clear those seats now!” When he turns back and looks at Steve, fear like he's never felt makes him break out in cold sweat.

For good reason.

Steve’s eyes are darting anxiously between Joe and Chin. His mouth is hanging open and he’s covered in sweat. The effort he’s putting into trying to pull air into his lungs looks exhausting and the horrible gasping sound he’s making is flat out terrifying.

“Hey babe, hang in there, you’re gonna be fine,” Danny tells him. “As soon as we get you up front, Joe’s going to take care of you.” Words keep coming out of his mouth as he watches Chin and Joe pull Steve up out of his seat. The desperate look Steve gives him says he needs a lot more than words.

“Do you want to get this oxygen on him?” Danny grabs the canister and tries to hand it to Joe.

“No, take it with you. Go get anyone in the aisle out of the way and make sure that first row is cleared.”

_____~_____

Danny barely sees the people he asks to sit down or the ones staring at him as he races toward the front of the plane. When he gets there, the row of seats facing the bulkhead is already empty and the co-pilot is waiting with the medical kit. The flight attendant who first came up to them is spreading a blanket on the floor.

Good.

He turns, hoping to see Joe and Chin close behind him but they’re still struggling to get Steve up the aisle. His arms are draped over their shoulders and they’re basically dragging him. Not good. Danny drops the oxygen and runs back, “Here, I’ll take his legs. Each of you grab him around his shoulders!”

Seconds later they're lowering him to the floor.

The minute Steve's flat on his back, he lurches up, swinging wildly at all of them.

“Take it easy, son; lay down.”

“No…” he gasps, “need to… sit… up.”

“Okay… that’s fine, babe, just calm down.”

Steve shakes his head frantically, “Danny… you gotta… help… me.”

“I will. I will. But you need to let Joe help you too.”

Lack of oxygen makes it impossible for Steve to process what he’s hearing. He makes a clumsy halfhearted attempt to get up before doubling over.

“Here, how about we try this.” Chin grabs him under his arms and with Joe’s help slides him so he’s sitting up against the bulkhead. “That better?”

He nods but looks close to passing out.

“Give me that oxygen!” Joe grabs the canister from Danny and rips open the package of clear tubing that’s taped to it. After he attaches the tubing to the canister and dials the flow rate, he kneels next to Steve. “Here you go. This will help.”

Steve stares at him helplessly as he slides the pronged canula under his nose.

“You don’t want to use this?” Danny holds up an oxygen mask that had been strapped around the canister.

“No, he’ll fight having anything over his mouth and nose.” Joe lays his hand on Steve’s heaving chest. “Try to slow your breathing down, son.”

The desperate look Steve gives him says he would if only he could.

“Chin- get his shirt off - just rip it.”

“Here, Joe.”

None of them know how long Wade’s been there or look up when he hands Joe his carry-on bag and then climbs into the seat directly across from Steve. “You think it’s a pneumo?”

“Looks that way.”

“You going to decompress him?”

“Got to.” Joe's eyes are on Steve’s chest, “I’m guessing it’s the right side where the bruising is the worst. Where’s that damn first aid kit?”

“Here.“ The co-pilot hands him the kit.

“Wade, see if you can find a stethoscope in this thing.”

Seconds later Wade is listening to Steve’s chest. “You called it, no breath sounds on the right.”

As he listens to them, Danny feels like screaming for someone to explain what’s going on. He could swear the thing Joe just took out of his bag looks like the individual plastic containers that hold expensive cigars.

“Here, prep him.”

Joe adds to Danny's confusion by tossing something to Wade. As he watches Wade rip open a foil packet, Danny expects him to take out an alcohol pad; instead it’s a brownish orange one.

Okay, so it’s that iodine stuff.

Just fucking hurry whatever you’re doing.

“Hang in there, pal-we’re going to fix you up.” Wade slides out of the seat and drops down on his knees.

Not that Steve notices.

He doesn’t even look up when Wade feels along his chest and settles on a spot midway between his collarbone and nipple. The only thing he does, and he does it as soon as Wade starts to wipe the spot, is slump forward like dead weight

“Joe, we’re losing him!” Wade screams as he frantically pushes Steve back.

“We are not losing him, God damn it!” Sounding and looking furious, Joe pulls a needle out of the cylindrical container.

It’s the longest fucking needle Danny has ever seen.

After he marches his fingers down Steve’s chest, Joe positions the needle at a ninety degree angle and drives it in with one firm stab. As soon as the hub is flush against his skin, he twists and pulls the needle out, leaving a hollow catheter embedded in Steve’s chest.

Nothing happens.

There’s no reaction from Steve.

There’s no rush of air.

There's nothing.

Panic creeps into Wade’s voice, “It must not be a pneumo?”

“It’s got to be blood then,” Joe says grimly. “Danny!. Get me some tubing – yank it off one of the overhead oxygen masks.” Then to Chin, “Help Wade lay him down - get him as close to these seats as you can so I can get to his right side.”

Wade’s already lowering Steve to the floor. As soon as he does, he kneels next to him. Concentrating like he’s working with live explosives, he feels his way down Steve’s side, stopping at his fifth rib to slide his fingers back and forth. When he’s sure he’s found the space between it and the next rib, he starts scrubbing with the brownish colored wipe.

Next to him, Joe is sorting through the medical kit, “This damn thing have any kind of scalpel in it?”

“It should,” the co-pilot answers.

“Okay, here’s one.” Joe scans the wrapper, “It's only a 10 blade but it’ll have to do.”

“Here’s the tubing, Joe-”

Joe locks eyes with Danny when he takes it from him, “I’m not going to lose him, I swear to God - not after we’ve come this far.”

Danny just nods, too scared to speak.

Joe wants to say more but there's no time. He turns to the flight attendant, “Can you find me a water bottle?”

She nods and ducks into the galley.

“Wait! I need something stiff to go inside this tubing. Do you have a coat hanger or some wire - anything like that?”

“No-” then she stops herself. “The captain’s coat is always hanging on the back of the cockpit door - there must be some kind of hanger.”

“Hurry!”

Joe turns back to Wade, “You and Chin hold him down, he might still have some fight left in him when he feels this.”

Wade has two fingers on Steve’s neck, “His heart rate’s through the roof.”

“Then we don’t have much time.”

Suddenly the flight attendant’s back with a wire coat hanger and a water bottle and then everything seems to fast forward. Joe grabs the hanger and twists it apart, breaking off a foot long piece that he threads through the tubing. “Here, Danny, hold onto this until I ask for it. And you, Miss, empty that bottle then put the cap back on it - make sure it’s tight.”

As soon as Danny and the flight attendant do what they’re asked to, it’s suddenly eerily silent.

It’s as if the entire plane knows how high the stakes are and goes quiet.

Wade trades places with Joe. A look passes between them that says it's do or die time.

Joe’s hands are steady as he feels for his landmarks. He’s done this once before. His buddy lived. Steve is going to live, too.

It’s that simple.

He finds his target and marks it with his finger.

“Okay hold tight,” he warns as he positions the scalpel. “Here goes-” When he moves his finger and drives the blade straight in, dark blood rushes out over his hand and onto the floor. Ignoring it, he slides two fingers into the hole he’s just made, scissoring them and twisting them deep enough to reach the blood filled cavity around Steve’s lung.

“Give me the tubing, now Danny!” The muscles in Joe’s forearm ripple as he drives the wire strengthened tubing into Steve’s chest. Before he even has a chance to pull out the wire, the tubing fills with blood.

“Jackpot.” Wade whispers. “Give me that blade-” After he takes it from Joe, he takes the empty water bottle from the stewardess and makes a small hole near the top of it. Once he's sure the cap is on tightly he squeezes the bottle, forcing most of the air in it out. “Here, Joe-bottle’s ready. Hole’s under my thumb.”

Joe picks up the end of the tubing splattering blood on his and Wade’s pants, “Okay hold it still-” He aims for Wade’s thumb, “Now!”

The second Wade slides his thumb away, Joe forces the tubing through the hole.

Blood immediately begins to fill the bottle.

Danny can’t breathe as he watches it flow.

For a second no one moves or breaks the terrifying silence.

And then it happens.

It’s not a breath; it’s barely a gasp.

What it is, though, is a sign that Steve’s lung is beginning to re-inflate.

It’s the sweetest sound any of them have heard in a long, long time.

A second later Steve takes a real breath.

Talk about sweet.

Joe’s shoulders relax but his expression stays grim. He searches the shocked faces looking down on him, hating that he has no time to reassure Kono and Lori who he notices for the first time. He finds the co-pilot, “What’s our nearest airport?”

“Haneda is twenty minutes behind us, in front of us there’s nothing but open sea until Honolulu.”

“Haneda? That’s Tokyo?”

“Yep.”

“We need to divert there then.”

“You got it.”

As the man sprints off, Joe takes his first decent breath since he started working on Steve, “I’ll give you ten to one that guy was Air Force before this gig.”

Wade nods, wiping a bloody hand across his forehead, “Damn straight he was. Almost makes me sorry for all the jokes I tell about those flyboys.”

“You should be sorry. Come on, help me throw a few stitches around this tubing, would you?”

“It’d be a fucking pleasure.”  
______~______

A minute later, the pilot makes his third announcement since the ordeal had begun.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks to your prayers and much appreciated cooperation it looks like our passenger is going to make it.” A deafening cheer erupts in the plane. More than a few people who’ve never laid eyes on Steve wipe away tears. When the pilot continues with the news about diverting to Tokyo, a surprised buzz spreads through the plane, but there’s not a single dissonant note.

Maybe the complete lack of protest is due to some strange coincidence and an unusual number of the passengers on the flight really are uniquely caring and unselfish. More than likely, though, the reason for it has a lot to do with the captain’s carefully chosen words each time he came over the PA system. As soon as he was given the details of the emergency, he explained in his deep, gravelly voice that a serviceman heading home was having difficulty breathing and asked everyone to stay calm while some kind folks tended to him. A few minutes later, he asked for everyone to pray, while, in his words, and with his voice cracking, “A brave young man fights for his life.

What he said was never that far from the truth-he just knew how to package the truth so that it would touch the right chord and ruffle the fewest feathers. It’s no wonder a jubilant cheer rocked the plane a half hour later when paramedics carried Steve off. Craning their necks for a better look, passengers left their seats to crowd around the windows on the plane’s right hand side in hopes of catching a glimpse of him as he’s transferred from a high backed transport chair to a stretcher and then loaded into the ambulance

More than a few passengers wonder out loud about the bald man and the shorter, muscular man walking beside the stretcher. When the paramedics let them climb into the ambulance there are plenty of surprised faces.

“Maybe that’s his Daddy and his brother,” a little girl suggests to the woman beside her.

“Or maybe just his friends,” counters her older and, he thinks, wiser brother.

“Well, whoever they are, they look like they’re incredibly glad he’s… alive.”

“Mommy! Why are you crying?” The little girl’s suddenly worried.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry. These are… happy tears.”

The little girl looks unconvinced. Her brother looks confused.

“Come here, you two.” The woman leans down pulling them close. “That man’s a soldier and he got hurt just like your daddy did." She takes an uneven breath, "But God didn't need him in heaven yet so he's going to get to go home and see the people he loves and hopefully have a long, happy life.” Her voice catches but only for a second. Elation that a perfect stranger just outwitted death overpowers her sadness. She holds the boy and girl close and as they watch the ambulance speed away, says a little prayer for the man inside it.

Epilogue:

Danny hands their boarding passes to the gate attendant with a smile.

She glances suspiciously at the wheelchair and the stitches and bruises on Steve’s face. “Is this man safe to travel?”

“Yes mam he most definitely is.”

“Well I’m going to need a-"

“Doctor’s note?” He hands it to her with a flourish that makes Steve roll his eyes.

“And I can walk too, by the way,” Steve announces, standing up and pushing the chair backwards into Joe.

“Easy, Son.”

“Let’s just get to our seats, please?”

“Okay but you better behave buddy.”

Steve’s sigh would have rivaled anything Job came up with.

It turns out that flying first class and not having to deal with a collapsed lung is a much more pleasant flight experience for all of them. Steve’s still on painkillers so as soon as they level off at cruising altitude and before the first meal is served he’s asleep with his head on the pillow Danny slid under it and a light blue airline blanket over him. Joe leans across the aisle to get at look at him and gives Danny a grin, “Looks like you got our friend all squared away?”

“For now at least.”

“You let the others know what time we get in?”

“Sure did. Get ready for a real welcome home- they’re all going to be there including Kamekona.”

“That’s great. Steve’s a lucky man.”

“That he is.”

“What’s the smile?”

“Oh I don’t know. I guess I feel like I’m pretty lucky too..”

“You are. We all are.”

“Are w…what?”

“Well look who’s awake? Have a nice nap?”

It’s a bleary re-entry for Steve; he takes his time answering, “Ye…ah.” Then he frowns and lays a hand on his belly.

“What’s that look? Are you hurting?” Danny’s chest tightens.

Joe is already undoing seat belt.

“No. I feel… fine. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I’m… hungry.”

Both men laugh sheepishly-embarrassed at how relieved they are.

“You’re hungry are you?”

“Starved.”

“Well we’ll just have to do something about that.”

“Oh, Miss?”

“Yes sir?”

Joe smiles up at the flight attendant, “My friend over there would like to have the largest, rarest filet you can find with all the trimmings please.”

“And a beer, please,” Steve pipes up.

“You cannot have beer you dofus; you’re on painkillers!”

Steve looks stricken, “Come on Danny, just a sip?”

“Well maybe a sip.” Danny looks up at the amused flight attendant, “Could you please bring him a glass of iced tea too.”

“And some fruit if you have any.”

“And some fruit if you have any,” Danny confirms, smiling at Steve.

An hour later after he’s cleaned his plate, emptied his glass of iced tea and had exactly five sips of beer, each supervised by Danny, Steve curls up and falls back asleep and stays that way until the plane touches down in Honolulu.

Danny pretty much just watches him the whole time.

Joe does a lot glancing over at him too.

It’s not that they’re worried like the last time, it’s just still a little hard to believe they’re really and truly finally bringing him home.


End file.
